Our Beautiful Disaster
by Krymzen Skye Woolstenhume
Summary: Prince Erik is cursed with a death's head.  If no one can learn to love and accept him, he will perish on the eve of his thirty fifth year.  Will his love for Christine, the beautiful villager be able to save him?  Beauty and the Beast/Phatnom crossover.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I do not own any characters or situations from Phantom, Beauty and the Beast, Rigoletto, Sleeping Beauty etc. They are not mine, and are used for entertainment purposes.**

Time, it's such a mere, nonexistent thing really. And yet, it has the ability to destroy, heal, and corrupt. It also has the ability to tell a story, which is how this one begins; with once upon a time.

Once upon a time there existed a far away kingdom called Larcosia. It was a beautiful place with lush, green pine tree forests, and clear blue lakes and streams. The kingdom was a happy one where villagers were governed justly and fairly buy their rulers. King and Queen Destler were known fondly for their kindness and good judgment. They were well respected throughout the land and lived very peacefully in their castle.

Their castle was very beautiful and regal with towering spires and high stone walls, and the interior fairly glittered with finery. Originally the castle did not have a name, but it became widely popular for its curious architecture. For inside the castle were rooms with many mirrors. The whole interior of those rooms was made purely of mirror itself. The mirrored rooms became so widely known throughout the land, that the people of Larcosia named this curious place the Castle of Mirrors. It wasn't an uncommon thing for travelers to come and tour the wondrous place.

The Land of Larcosia was never a corrupt or war torn place. Disputes were settled fairly and justly by the King and Queen. It was always said by the people in the kingdom that as long as a Destler ruled, there would be no turmoil. However, the King and Queen feared that there wouldn't be a Destler to rule after them, for they had no children. From day to day the King and Queen had to mask their sadness, for they had royal duties to attend to.

One day, as the King was signing a document with another kingdom, the Queen had discovered some wonderful and much awaited news. They were to have a child! The King and Queen were so elated that they decided to hold a ball and feast in honor of their unborn son or daughter. Preparations began immediately, and the whole kingdom was simply buzzing with excitement. That is, except for one.

Far away, close to the borderline of Larcosia, sat a small but sinister looking place. It was a castle of sorts, but no one knew its name and no one cared to. The walls were dark and sinister, and the trees that sat on the grounds were twisted, odd shaped, and virtually lifeless. There was no sign of life to be had in at least a one mile perimeter of the place, but Xania preferred it this way.

Xania was the perfect match to her home. Her knotted, bony hands were cold and thin, her hair was reduced to wisps and patches of clumps, and her hunched figure could inspire fear in the bravest of souls. Xania was nothing short of a witch, in a very literal sense. For a good portion of her life she secretly studied black magic and horrible potions. This was the kind of magic that if it was ever found out, it could mean a death sentence. Xania wasn't always this way. Oh no, at one time she had a purpose in life, and a station. Xania used to be a physician in the Castle of Mirrors.

While she worked there, Xania performed many unbelievable medical feats. Her potions and remedies were miracles in a bottle. The King and Queen were awed by her, and constantly called on her for medicinal advice. As Xania continued to work in the castle with the two royals, a very unlucky circumstance transpired. Little did the royals know that the after effects of such a circumstance would change the lives of the King and Queen forever. For you see, Xania fell in love with the King.

Little did they know that with each passing day Xania's hatred towards the Queen grew even more intensely. Then one day, Xania decided that she would rid of the Queen once and for all. She prepared a seemingly normal sleeping draught for the Queen to take, as the Queen usually like to have a little extra help getting to sleep, but in this draught Xania laced it with heavy poison. Xania took the draught up to the Queen like usual, and presented her the drink. As the Queen stood to reach for the drink, she tripped on the hem of her nightgown and knocked the concoction from Xania's hand. As the contents spilled all about the bed, the acid in the poison ate away at the bed sheets, foiling Xania's plot. As if on cue, the King strode into the bedroom to behold the horrid scene. Understanding immediately hit him as he banished Xania from the kingdom in a horrible rage. Xania fled from the castle, but as she did so she yelled that she would one day have her revenge. It was at that time that Xania began to participate in the black arts of magic.

These memories were the ones that pervaded Xania's mind as she rode toward the Castle. _Ah yes, _she thought to herself, _revenge would most assuredly be sweet._

The Castle of Mirrors fairly glowed with merriment as the festivities were at their height. Everyone was in a jolly mood and full of anticipation for the upcoming ceremony following the feast. Word had spread throughout the place that the midwives had told the King and Queen to expect a boy, for the child was being carried low in the mother's stomach. It was in this ceremony that the King and Queen were to announce the selected name of their child, and following the announcement the three good fairies of the north would bestow upon the unborn child a gift. The magic of the fairies was well known throughout many kingdoms, and it was a rarity to behold them using it in action.

As the last plates were cleared away, the King and Queen rose to address their people. The room was in such a buzz that no one noticed a hunched, black shadow slip into a dark corner of the hall.

"People of Larcosia," the king announced, "It is with great pleasure that I announce the anticipated birth of our child, whom we will call Prince Erik."

A great roar went up among the crowd, and murmurs of assent quickly spread throughout the room. The king held up his hand to silence the boisterous crowd as he addressed them once more.

"Would the good fairies of the north approach the throne to bestow their gifts?"

The audience watched as three pleasant looking, middle aged women approached the King and Queen. The first fairy, the fairy of talents, kneeled at the Queen's feet as she placed her hands on the Queen's stomach to bestow her gift.

"Fair child," the fairy began, "I bless you with the talent of music. Your voice will be more heavenly than the angels, your skill will be such that you will master any instruments your hands touch, and your ability to compose will be revered as pure genius."

The fairy finished by bowing to the royals as the next fairy, the fairy of knowledge approached the Queen and repeated the same motion.

"Child, I bless you with acute intelligence. You will be known for your accurate discernment and brilliance of mind."

The fairy finished and moved back with the fairy of talents. The last fairy, the fairy of human nature approached and began her blessing.

"Dearest One, I bless you with agility and grace, strength, a strong will, and a beautiful heart."

Then it was over, the awed crowd broke into a lively applause as the fairies seated themselves once again. Just as soon as the happy nature of the room came, it left once again as the black shadow darted from its hidden corner and addressed the room.

"I also have a gift for the child!" Xania cackled.

Before anyone could stop her, Xania cast a powerful incantation that physically froze everyone to the spot excluding her. Although the people were physically frozen, their minds and other senses were still in perfect condition, and they gazed on in horror as Xania placed her hands on the Queen's swollen belly and began her "blessing."

"I curse this child with a death's head!" Xania screamed in a wicked rage. "May this child's body be thin and cold to the touch, and may he inflict horror upon those who gaze on his hideousness! If no one will come to love and accept this child, may he perish on the eve of his thirty fifth year!"

Xania cackled as she broke the freezing incantation and disappeared in a cloud of black smoke. The horror and despair that was felt in the room was overwhelming. The deed had been done, and there was nothing anyone could do.

The Queen's pregnancy continued on as normal as could be expected. This inspired hope in many that perhaps there was nothing wrong after all. But they were soon to be disappointed. It was a stormy night, and the King had ridden out with his cavalry once again in hopes that they would catch Xania. He had been gone for so long that the Queen had become worried. She could not help but feeling that something was terribly wrong. Her feeling would prove to be correct.

It was in the very late hours of the evening when the soldiers brought the King's body back. He was dead as a result of black magic, and Xania was nowhere to be found. The Queen had no time to despair, for she was immediately seized with incredible labor pains. The midwives were immediately brought in, and the birthing of the Prince began. It was a hard, long process, when finally the new born babe was delivered into the new world. The midwives shrieked in horror as they gazed upon the child's face. Xania's curse had proved successful. The new Prince had the head of a corpse. Where there should have been a nose, there was a gaping hole. The child's sunken eyes had a strange yellow color, and his skin was thin and yellow. Blue veins were visible through the child's skin, and uneven lines and bumps coursed across the child's face.

The Queen, in terror of her own child, hastily ordered the castle seamstress to fashion a mask to place over the horrific face of her son. Then something curious happened, the child cried. This wasn't any normal baby wail. The child's cry was strangely unearthly, and even musical to hear. The Queen was fascinated and horrified by it at the same time. This was the beginning of Prince Erik's life.

Years passed and Prince Erik progressed increasingly in his music and his studies. He was considered a quiet, mysterious child, but extremely intelligent and musical. Ever since the day he was born, he was never permitted to remove his mask. All mirrors had been removed from the child's presence, and he was never permitted to enter the wing that contained the rooms filled with mirrors. Life was a seemingly normal for Erik, until the day the Queen mysteriously passed in Erik's ninth year. No one quite knew why, but rumors spread that the Queen died of a broken heart.

Prince Erik was furious when he heard of his mother's death. In a blind rage he ran from his music room and somehow ended up into the wing that was forbidden to him. He could hear pursuit of people behind him, so he dashed into the nearest room and closed the door. What he found there was a room full of mirrors. Curiosity seized him as he gazed at his reflection. Carefully he examined the rest of the room, but only to find his reflection mirrored on every wall. He seized the opportunity to finally glimpse at his true face. His hands reached around to the back of his head to find the tassels that held his mask in place. Gently he untied them and removed his mask. When he saw his visage he was so terrified that he cried out in repulsion and despair. Prince Erik became so enraged that he smashed all the mirrors that showed his reflection. Blood dripped down his hands as he continued until shards of the destroyed mirrors filled the room. The image of his death-like face was engraved in his subconscious mind, and forever would stay there. Prince Erik then became what he would be known as in his adult life, a Phantom.

Years passed and Erik committed himself to his music and nothing else. He secluded himself from the rest of the castle, and refused to show himself to people. He later dismissed everyone in the castle and renounced his throne as king. The only title he would now hold would be one that would inspire fear, and the Castle of Mirrors became nothing more than a monument that inspired rumor and folklore.

Larcosia had now become a self-governing place. Although Erik had renounced his title as King, he still had a powerful presence that struck fear in every villager's soul. Occasionally Prince Erik would make demands of the people, which usually were hastily met for fear of the Prince's respite. Other than that, Erik kept to himself in his castle as he continued to progress in his genius.

As life went on, folklore and tales remained of a disfigured genius that dwelled within the castle. People often told of a madman that dwelled in the area, and children were told tales of a Phantom dressed in a black cloak that haunted the woods near the castle. And this, readers, is where our story really begins.

**A/N: Ok so that is my prologue! As many of you may have noticed that the whole idea of the gifts from the fairies came from Sleeping Beauty. I would also like to note that the prediction based on the positioning of the baby in the mother's belly is a wives tale. Many people used the assumption that if the baby sat low in the mother's stomach, it would be a boy. If the child sat higher, it was a girl. Just thought I would mention that. Anyway, please read and review! **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hey! Thanks for all of your wonderful reviews! You guys are AMAZING! I'm sorry if this chapter seems a little hastily written, but a lot of complicated and perplexing matters have come up. Never fear! I fully intend to regularly update as often as possible! Suggestions are welcome! Anyway, I hope you like it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own them!…=(…cries into keyboard…..**

The wooden wagon bumped and bounced down the uneven dirt road. With every jerk of the wagon, Christine's heart jolted with it. The pain of her and her father's recent tragedy was still fresh in her heart. How was she going to cope? Her mother was everything to her and her father, and now she was gone. Christine remembered when life had been so carefree for her. Memories of romping in the sandy beach, and listening to her father's violin lull her to sleep ran through her troubled mind.

Christine glanced at her father. His dark brown hair that was streaked with grey was in disarray, and his appearance screamed sadness. It was so evident on his face. It greatly pained Christine to see her father in such a state of mind, but she was glad to see that he retained some happiness, even if it was a little. On the day Isabella Daae died a piece of Gustave Daae died with her. It was not long after her mother's death that Gustave suggested a change of scenery, and so they loaded their wagon and left.

Christine's mind snapped back into the present. She allowed a sad half smile to pull at the corners of her mouth. _At least we have each other, _she thought.

The dirt road suddenly ended, and a small village came into view. Gustave slowed the horses into an easy canter as father and daughter viewed their home.

"This is it," Gustave remarked, as he reigned in the horses to a small, but peaceful looking cottage. "What do you think, Christine? Can we really settle here?"

Christine observed the cottage and the rest of the village. She grabbed her father's hand in reply.

"I think it's beautiful, Papa. We will do very well here, I think."

Gustave nodded and began to unload what little furniture and necessities they had brought. Christine quickly made her way into the house to inspect its condition. The inside was very cozy looking with a fireplace and hearth. Although it was small and covered in dust, Christine silently made her approval as she continued onward. Throughout her inspection she discovered that the cottage had two small rooms that were perfect for her and her father's situation. Christine exited out the side door to tell her father of their new home, when she was met with a solid body.

Both crashed to the ground as they profusely sputtered their apologies. Christine's gaze slowly met with this new stranger and she found herself blushing madly. He was a very handsome man, perhaps two or three years older than Christine's eighteen. He had light golden brown hair that fell into his eyes which were the color of the sea after a storm.

"I'm very sorry, Sir" Christine began, "I was only trying to find my father and it seems that I have taken the wrong door."

The man broke out into a charming grin which only made Christine's blush run deeper.

"No reason to apologize. If anything the fault is mine. You see my father and I own a few of these small cottages that have recently sold out to buyers. I only was coming to inspect yours to make sure everything was in proper order for your arrival."

Christine nodded, "Father said that someone might be here for that reason," Christine held out her hand as the young man took it in a firm grasp, "My name is Christine Daae. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Raoul de Chagny at your service, Ms. Christine," the young man responded.

The two young people struck up a casual conversation as they made their way to the front of the cottage. Gustave was in the process of watering the horses when he caught sight of the pair.

"Ah, Christine!" he exclaimed, "I see you have already made a friend!"

Christine's faded blush reappeared once again, "Father, this is Raoul de Chagny. He and his father are the gentlemen who sold us our home."

Raoul and Christine's father exchanged pleasantries as Raoul insisted that he assist them in settling in their new home.

They spent a good portion of the day dusting and rearranging furniture and such. As they finished the last of it Raoul stood and announced that he had to go attend to business with his father.

As night drew near Christine strolled through the village and couldn't help but admire the beautiful scenery that surrounded her new home. The thick pine tree forests inspired a certain curiosity in Christine that she couldn't quite place. She made a mental note to ask her father if he knew anything interesting about the forests.

As Christine was drawing nearer to her home, a certain overgrown path caught her attention. It wound through the forest and disappeared behind a bend. Curiosity and adventure nagged at her, but it was late and she reminded herself that there always another day.

Later that night Christine and her father sat by the crackling fire. The warmth enveloped the room which further confirmed to Christine that her and her father would be very comfortable here. Thoughts of the woods invaded Christine's thoughts, and she could no longer hold in her curiosity.

"Father," she began, "do you know anything of the woods that surround this village?"

Gustave sighed and let out an amused chuckle, "Dear child, what would make you ask such a question?"

Christine shrugged her shoulders, "Nothing really. I was only curious about them."

Gustave repositioned himself in his chair, "They do seem to have a mysterious feeling about them don't they?"

Christine nodded, she sensed that her father was about to say more.

"All I have heard is that they are supposed to be haunted by some sort of a Phantom, but that is only folklore, Christine. Don't you pay those stories any attention."

He then rose and moved to retire to his room, "It is quite interesting how beautiful things have a way of striking mystery in one's being, don't they?"

Christine nodded as she watched her father exit the room. After the fire died out she was overcome with exhaustion. She climbed the creaky stairs to her small room. After climbing into her nightgown she began the process of braiding her dark brown curls. She stared at her blank expression in a small, glass hand mirror. Her chocolate brown eyes reflected back a look of contentment and exhaustion. When she finally climbed into bed, she thought she could hear faint violin music coming in the direction of her father's room. It was this peaceful sound that finally lulled her to sleep.

The next day dawned bright and beautiful, and Christine could not bear to stay in bed any longer. She hastily threw on a sky blue dress and pulled her hair back in a ribbon. She walked quietly so as not to wake her father, she exited their small home into the crisp, fresh morning air. Christine inhaled, filling her lungs with its sweetness. She was determined and intent on exploring her way through the overgrown path that had so intrigued her the other night. Excitement filled her step just at the thought of it, but a quiet fear of a Phantom haunting the area filled her.

_What if the stories are true?_ She thought to herself.

Christine silently chided herself for such nonsense. She reminded herself that nothing good came of rumor and gossip. She rounded the corner when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Still somewhat jittery over the possibility of the woods being haunted, Christine jerked around as she emitted a small, pathetic yelp. To her great relief it was only Raoul. She couldn't help but feel slightly annoyed at her foiled attempt of exploration. His face was slightly red as a result of the cool morning air, and his eyes sparkled with excitement.

"I'm very sorry, Christine," he apologized, "I never meant to frighten you."

Christine instantly forgave him. She made a silent note to take another stroll in the evening.

"Never worry, Raoul, you can make it up to me by showing me around the village."

He complied by taking her arm and leading her into the more public area of the village. He guided her through many a store, from bakers and butchers to blacksmiths and clothing shops. They shared a lighthearted conversation as Raoul bought Christine a small breakfast.

Although she was enjoying the small tour of the village, Christine's mind still strayed back to the mystery of the woods. She had concluded earlier that if anyone was to know about them, it would be Raoul.

"Raoul," Christine began slowly, "Are there any legends or folklore about the woods that surround the village?"

Raoul's eyes hardened slightly as his gaze scanned the woods with a steady silence that almost made Christine sorry for asking.

"There are some rumors of some kind of a genius madman that resides in a castle deep in the woods. It's said that he comes out to sing beautiful music near the village to lure innocents into his trap."

Now Christine was amused.

"Who is he?" she asked.

"Some say that he is a prince, cursed with a horrible face. Apparently he was supposed to have been the king of this land, but renounced his throne for some reason or another."

"Why?"

Raoul shrugged, "Who knows, it's only a story to scare small children into not going into the forest. Don't believe any of these children's fairytales for a moment, Christine."

But it was as if Christine never hard him. She was much too deep in thought by the possibility of adventure to heed Raoul's warnings.

"Thank you so much for the wonderful morning, Raoul, but if you'll excuse me I must be getting back to my father," Christine said as she rose.

As Christine turned around to leave, a large frame smacked straight into her. The air rushed out of her lungs as she tried to regain her composure. Christine looked to see an attractive auburn haired woman sitting flat on her rump in pile horse manure. Christine had a feeling that this woman was not about to offer her apologies, and she was most definitely was correct!"

"Ach!" The woman screeched, "You imbecile! How dare you run into me in such a way!"

Christine opened her mouth to apologize when, thankfully, Raoul came to her rescue.

"Excuse us, Carlotta, we did not see you there. Please accept our sincerest apologies."

Christine noticed a small quirk at the side of Raoul's mouth, and she detected that he was trying not to laugh.

Carlotta, however, would hear none of it.

"Don't try to sweet talk your way out of mischief, Mr. de Chagny," she spat, "if it weren't for your father's prestige you would end up just like brats such as these!" Carlotta wildly gestured to Christine, and with one final huff she was marching down the street.

Raoul could no longer hold in his laughter. Christine could not help but join in with him, as his laughter was extremely contagious.

"Who was that?" Christine asked, wiping away a tear.

"Her name is Carlotta," Raoul laughed, "she struts about this village as if she owns it, but I think all she does is put off a good show for the rest of us."

Christine rejoined him again in his contagious laughter. She couldn't help but notice the charming way his eyes twinkled and his smile lit up his face when he laughed. Shaking away such thoughts Christine hastily exchanged pleasantries with Raoul, and turned back towards home. Thoughts filled her mind once more of the mysterious overgrown path. _Tonight, _she thought to herself.

The hours in the day seemed to drag on for ages as Christine thoughtlessly did small chores to keep her mind preoccupied. She let out a sigh of relief when the sun had finally set behind the hills. Quickly she explained to her father that she was going out. She threw on a light blue cloak, and was out the door. Christine's step quickened as she finally reached the familiar sight. For a brief second doubts filled her mind. What if she were to get lost? Christine shrugged away the thoughts, and began down the path. It was as if she was plunged into another world; a world where green dominated and the soft gurgling of a stream was the only thing to be heard. Such joy and elation filled Christine's soul that she began singing a song her father and mother had taught her as a young girl.

_ I know you I walked with you once upon a dream_

_ I know you the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam_

_ Yet I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem_

_ But if I know you, I know what you'll do_

_ You'll love me at once the way you did once upon a dream_

It was then that Christine had the distinct, terrifying feeling that she was being watched. Terror and wonder filled her soul as she heard the soft humming of the same melody she had just sung.

She was frozen to the spot out of fear, but yet she was awed by the gorgeous sound that seemed to be coming from all around her. It had to be the most heavenly sound she had ever heard in her life. Then realization hit her that it was dark and there was someone watching her and singing her song. In one swift motion Christine lifted her skirts and fled, unaware of the pair of golden eyes that watched her.

**A/N: Oooooooo scary! The funny thing is, is that I was writing this at one thirty in the morning and I heard some noises coming from my closet. I think my imagination will be the death of me one day! Anyway, the lyrics to the song Christine sings is from "Sleeping Beauty." Thanks for all the reviews! They greatly encourage me to write more!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: …Drumroll…Ladies and gentlmen….I give you…..Erik!**

Erik inwardly cursed himself as he watched the girl flee into the darkness. The spell that her melodious voice had cast was now diminished.

_How could I have so openly showed my fascination with her voice? _He thought bitterly to himself. _As if I could have helped it. The girl has the voice of an angel, even if it is slightly untrained._

Erik was rooted to the spot. He found himself unable to move from what he had just experienced. Not only did was her singing beautiful, but her face alone was exquisite. Erik had not the slightest clue as to who she was, but he made a mental note to find out somehow.

Erik was not, by any means, a man to be moved by such a simple thing. He had long ago concluded that his heart was caged and chained, unable to be moved by anything or anyone. The way this girl had shaken him was so foreign a thing to Erik that he couldn't put together a conclusion as to what had happened to him emotionally. The image of her face was burned in his memory.

Erik cursed himself for such thoughts. He never allowed himself to become weak in any way, whether it be physical or in mentality. He could hardly believe that he had allowed himself to get so carried away. Not only had he terrified the girl, but he had most likely succeeded in preventing her return to the woods.

He finally managed to remove himself from his hidden location. He slowly made his way through the darkening woods to his secluded castle. The gurgling of a passing stream and the way the wind blew through the trees inspired a melody in Erik that he could not sustain inside his soul any longer. He began humming a simple but lovely tune. However hard he tried, Erik couldn't keep his thoughts from straying to the girl. It frustrated him to no end to be distracted from anything in such a way.

_Especially by a woman of all things! _He chided himself.

After a walk of about fifteen minutes, Erik finally reached his castle. He allowed himself to give way to an impatient sigh. He forced himself to rid his thoughts of the girl as he entered his study. He had other matters of business that needed to be attended to.

Erik's study was shrouded in complete darkness save for a few candles that blazed a meager light. At the southern end of the room was a massive window, and next to it sat Erik's grand piano with a violin case that sat next to it. Sheet music was scattered every which way across the piano's surface.

Erik stationed himself at the end of a chair that sat behind a huge mahogany desk. Stationary, pens, and inkwells were scattered here and there. His mind strayed to the business matters that must be attended. Firmin and Andre, the figureheads of the village, were not quite complying with his demands the way he desired them to. The two men were bumbling fools and easily intimidated. Erik usually had no troubles concerning them. Now was not such an occasion.

Erik's usually well groomed, black hair was no longer slicked back, and was now in disarray as a result of fingers having been run through it. Stubble was spread across his chin from lack of shaving. Usually it was easy to obtain what Erik wanted out of the two fools. They would have tax collectors sent to gather the monthly tax from the villagers in which Erik was given fifty percent. It was always essential for him to get his half of the deal, as well as updates on the village status. It was vital to know if new villagers had moved into the area, so Erik knew if there was to be an increase in salary. The appearance of the mysteriously beautiful girl in the woods was testament to his lack of updated information. This would be his third letter warning the imbeciles of his waning patience.

Erik wouldn't be surprised if they just decided not to comply to his demands. After all, they didn't have a clue as to who he was. He supposed they did it because he posed as a threat.

_Which is precisely what I want to be to them, _Erik mused.

He made it absolutely clear in his letters that if he didn't have orders followed, disaster would occur. There had been one or two occurrences when Erik had to act upon his threats, which nearly drove the town into chaos. His orders had been followed since. This was the only instance in which there had been troubles.

Erik grabbed a fresh sheaf of paper, dipped his pen into an inkwell, and began his note.

_Dear Sirs,_

_It has come to my recent attention that I have not received my half of our deal. My patience is wearing thin, gentlemen, and might I remind you of the repercussions of not following orders. You __will_ _have the de Chagnys send out their tax collectors to retrieve the money. If I do not receive my half of the deal within the next few days, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur. I hope this reminds you of the seriousness of the matter._

_I remain, gentlemen,_

_E_

Erik folded the letter and enclosed it in a large envelope. He finished the process by enclosing the document with a large, red wax seal. He would deliver it tomorrow.

Erik gracefully strolled over to the piano and began to play the instrument brilliantly. The music consumed him and immersed him in a world of pure, sweet melody. He was in the middle of his piece when a sleek, furry body came crashing down on the keyboard of the piano. Erik cried out in frustration as his cat, Ayesha, continued to make more racket by pouncing up and down the black and white keys.

The corners of Erik's mouth pulled in amusement. Had anything else interrupted him, his rage would have been terrible. Ayesha, however, was the only company he had in his massive, lonely castle. His long, gloved fingers stroked the shiny, ebony coat as she purred in contentment. Ayesha jumped out of his lap, as she continued her hunt for food.

"It seems, Ayesha, that you are the only living thing that can stand to be in my presence," Erik murmured in discontent.

Erik's fingers strayed to the white porcelain mask that covered the entirety of his face. It was terribly uncomfortable at times, resulting in Erik having to remove it to prevent from total irritation and discomfort. He resented knowing that his face was fully exposed for even a moment, even if he was in solitude.

Thoughts of his recent predicament overcame is self-pitiful musings, as he once more absorbed himself in his music.

_The thick headed fools,_ he thought to himself, as he struck up an intense melody. _They think that they can fool me with their petty, insignificant minds, but we shall see who is to be fooled._

Erik's music grew to such intensity that if one were to hear it, they would have to cover their ears for fear of going mad. Then the music ended in one final crescendo. Erik was now panting with exertion and rage.

_Tomorrow I will deliver my note and evaluate my situation. Perhaps a little chaos will encourage them to comply with my orders when given._

It wouldn't come to anyone's surprise when they found out of the history of Erik's treachery. Just his appearance alone screamed malevolence. Erik rose from his piano bench to the large glass window. The dark forest panned out before his eyes. Memories of the girl washed through his mind. Unanswered questions as to who she was formed rapidly, resulting in driving him nearly insane.

_Tomorrow will reveal all, _he thought to himself.

Erik then reached up and drew the heavy, large black curtains to conceal the window and the outside world before him. A world he knew he could never love, and never belong.

**A/N: Sorry this chapter is shorter than the others. I never realized how hard Erik's character is to develop. Having school start doesn't help much either. I am still fully determined to update as frequent as possible. Ideas and insights that would help me with my characters or stories would help greatly! This story is for you guys, so why not help me write it a little? Please drop some reviews!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N Sorry it has been so long since an update. School has started and I have found myself with six to seven hours of homework each night. NOT FUN! Anyway, here is the next installment. **

The streets in the main part of the village were strangely empty that day. Usually small groups of people could be seen on business throughout the day, but the streets were empty and not a soul could be seen.

_It seems as if I'm the only one alive_, Christine thought.

She had risen earlier that morning to purchase a few necessities for her and her father. Lack of sleep due to memories of an unearthly voice had haunted her dreams. The eerie feeling that had once so invaded her senses reentered.

_I wonder where everyone could be,_ she thought as she entered the bakery, the bell on the door tingling behind her.

Her father had asked her to go into the village for some bread and a few other things. Christine fingered the few coins that she had placed in her apron pocket. Although their life in the village had been pleasant so far, Christine couldn't deny that money was beginning to be a problem.

When Christine and her father and mother lived in their cottage by the sea, they earned their income through their talents. Her father would travel to different towns and villages, sometimes large cities, where he would play his violin and either Christine or her mother would sing with his accompaniment. The crowds that had watched them had been mesmerized by the heavenly talent of the violinist, and the melodious voices of the two singers.

_I remember how father's violin case would fill with coins, _Christine mused, _we were always so happy._

Christine finished her purchases and exited the small bakery. The abandoned streets were empty still.

_How curious. Perhaps they are elsewhere and I am simply in the wrong place._

Christine continued to pass empty shops with nothing but the shopkeepers in them. As she continued down the deserted street, she thought she caught sight of a black cloak disappearing around a corner.

"Wait!" Christine yelled as she chased what she hoped was another human presence.

She rounded the corner in hops of finding someone there, but the alleyway was just as empty as the streets. The silence was so heavy it was as if there was a weight on Christine's mind.

_Odd, I was sure that someone was there._

"Please," she tried again, "I only wish to speak with you."

Her answer was silence. Just as Christine was about to investigate further, angry voices filled the air.

_It sounds like its coming from the town hall, _Christine thought.

Curious as to what the uproar was, she strayed over to the source of the noise. In front of the large, stone white building that was the town hall stood a crowd of perhaps fifteen to twenty men. They were all very important looking, as they were dressed in tailored suits.

_Who are these men? _Christine thought, searching the crowd for a familiar face. Then she spotted him, Raoul was standing next to his father quietly discussing something written on a piece of paper.

Christine moved closer in order to hear what the men were shouting. She hid herself to the side of the building behind a stone pillar for a better view. The angry shouts continued, one voice rising above the rest and silencing everyone else.

"This has gone on far too long!" We cannot continue to live in such a matter as this!"

Christine squinted so she might see who the speaker was. She spotted a man of about forty-five or fifty. His large, curly mustache seemingly bristled with contempt, and his graying, light brown hair stood on end. Shouts of agreement arose as another voice rose. This man was considerably shorter than the first, with a full head of curly, iron gray hair and a short, stubby mustache to match. The rest of the crowd was silenced as this new speaker raised his hand for attention.

"I cannot deny that certain problems have arose that are perplexing at nature, but what can be done, Firmin?" the man pointed to the previous speaker. "We know all too well the consequences that have ensued when we do not comply with the demands that have been given to us. Look at what has happened just this morning!" the man waved his hand frantically toward the street and the shops. "Maniacal laughter filling the streets, our townspeople too frightened to leave their homes, and shopkeepers to leave their businesses!

I agree that something must be done, but perhaps we should just comply with the orders that have been given to us. Have the De Chagnys send out their tax collectors, and obtain and updated status of the village. It's well worth preventing any forth coming disaster. Perhaps we can control this by coming to terms with this "E" person."

The once boisterous group that had been shouting and cursing moments before was reduced to whispers and murmurs of assent.

"Andre," the man that was called Firmin spoke up, "I am growing tired of threats and such calamity, but I suppose there is truth to your words. Raoul, Charles, perform your duties as usual." The de Chagnys nodded and left the circle of men. "Perhaps we can come to terms with this person, but we must consider the fact that we cannot give this "E" character whatever they ask. There has to be a limit, and I gentlemen, am at my limit. If anything more is to be demanded other than usual, I want action to be taken immediately. Am I clear?"

The men in the group slowly and quietly dispersed to their duties, and the streets became empty once more.

_Tax collectors? _Christine thought with mortification. _Papa and I can just afford to buy bread and milk._

She stared down at the lavender colored dress that she wore. It was a lovely dress, but the color was fading fast and the lace trimming was wearing down to almost nothing. It was a hard task for Christine to just keep it in fair condition.

_There are so many other things that Papa and I need,_ she thought, as she wandered aimlessly through the streets. _Food is only the beginning of our dwindling supplies. Papa must know of this immediately._

Christine quickened her pace, the basket hanging on her arm swinging wildly. Her brow was furrowed in contemplation at the thought of how she and her father were going to make ends meet. Her steps led her to the old dirt road that would take her to her and her father's small cottage. The area was overgrown with long, green grass that met her knees, and the smell of it was sweet and clean. Christine closed her eyes and momentarily forgot her troubles as she allowed herself to bask in the sunlight and fresh air.

Christine's momentary happiness ended just as suddenly as it came, when her body collided with another's. The frame of the body was huge in stature which caused Christine's small, petite build to fly in the opposite direction as a result of the impact. Bread and Christine's other belongings flew every which way as she found herself lying flat on her stomach.

Christine slowly began to raise herself from the ground,_ where did I suddenly pick up the habit of smashing into people?_

Before she could finish raising herself to her feet, a large, meaty hand grabbed her by the arm and finished the process for her. It was then that her gaze met the most lethal, predatory eyes that she had ever seen in her life. The man's build was enormous, as was the rest of him. He wore simple clothes, and his greasy, dark brown har was pulled back with a dirty ribbon.

_What on earth have I gotten myself into this time? _She thought with dread.

Just as she was about to make a quick apology and leave, a voice erupted from the large man in front of her.

"My my, what have we here?" His dull, blue eyes coursed the length of Christine's body as he spoke.

An alarm was triggered in Christine's mind._ I must leave, NOW. _She made a quick dash to the left of him, but was obstructed by his huge body mass; his deep, guttural voice addressed her again.

"The name is Joseph Buquet, if yo're wonderin'," Christine crinkled her nose in disgust from the rank stench of alcohol on his breath, "I must say we don't see many pretty things like yerself 'round ere."

Christine barely managed to yank her arm from his grasp, "Christine Daae, now if you will excuse me I must be getting along."

She made her best attempt to scurry away, but to no avail. Even in a drunken stupor, Joseph Buquet did not let pretty young women slide by his grasp so easily.

"Now you hold on there beautiful!" I plan on getting well-acquainted with you, and I plan on doing it now."

Joseph grabbed Christine by both of her arms and hauled her body to his. One of his filthy hands coursed itself in her chocolate curls, as he pulled her closer. No amount of struggling could free her from his grasp. His mouth came right to her temple as he spoke.

"I think yore gonna like me a whole lot by time I'm through with you."

Christine's muffled screams went unheard as Joseph's hand covered her mouth, his slimy, detestable lips coursed up and down her neck. The harder she fought the tighter Buquet's grasp would become, which resulted in great pain for Christine.

_Oh Lord God, _she silently prayed, _please deliver me from this adversary by thy divine providence. Father, send me my guardian angel._

_x x x_

Erik's penetrating gaze scanned the still, empty streets once more in a final observation.

_My work here is complete for the time being._

His form was silently claimed by the shadows of the tree line as he slunk his cloaked body into near invisibility.

_Those bumbling idiots ought not to undermine my authority_, Erik mused, a growl escaping his throat.

Erik remained in his perch a little longer, silently examining the goings about of the intimidated townspeople. He watched as two young women nervously drew water from the well, and then scurried back into their homes quickly after.

_They're frightened, _Erik scoffed, _and as well they should be. Perhaps acquiring the skill of throwing my voice wasn't such a useless talent after all, _a dark chuckle escaped from his lips, _my situation should be secured as of now. My half of our agreement should be in process._

Erik's musings were interrupted by the sound of nearby footsteps. A loud belch echoed from behind him, as he watched Buquet step from the forest; unknowing of the menacing presence just five paces from him.

_Buquet, the drunken idiot. Perhaps I should teach him not to tread near dangerous waters._

Erik was in the process of rising from his secluded hiding spot when he saw the visage that had so annoyingly infected his thoughts. The woman he had been so mesmerized by in the woods, and almost discovered by in town, was not but twenty paces from him. Erik's muscles went rigid as the beautiful girl had the misfortune of colliding with Buquet.

Erik inwardly cursed,_ that girl is in for trouble of the most wretched kind if she doesn't get out now._

Then he heard it, the name that identified the striking angel that he had become so fascinated with. _Christine Daae. _ Erik whispered it to himself over and over again. The mere sound of it on his lips was pure music.

Erik mentally slapped himself; _do not let your heart be swayed so definitely by a mere girl, Erik._

Erik's focus came into sudden clarity as the reality of the situation had set in. Buquet had grabbed Christine, his foul lips pressing up and down her neck. A fury Erik had never known before in his life rose to the surface of his being, and his breath grew heavy and short.

_Buquet knows not that he has just set the stage for his own grave, _and without a further thought Erik emerged from his seclusion; the two struggling figures unaware of his terrible presence. Erik's slender fingers met the Punjab lasso that was kept at the waist of his trousers. In one brisk, flash of movement the lasso had encircled Buquet's neck. It was then that Christine's deep brown eyes opened and met Erik's golden ones. Their gazes held for only a moment when Christine swooned.

Erik's focus once again concentrated on the Punjab lasso in front of him. He yanked it to what he estimated would be an unbearable pain around the man's neck. Buquet stumbled and landed on this back. Erik stepped over his body and fastened the rope to a near chokehold, but not enough to completely cut off his airway. He bent over Buquet, distancing his faces mere inches from his own.

"If you as much as come near Christine Daae, you will find yourself in hell with the rest of the scum such as you." Erik then lowered his voice to a terrible hiss," This is your warning Buquet, the Angel of Death has been merciful, and he shall never do so again."

Erik finished the process by knocking Buquet unconscious. In one graceful movement he was by Christine's side, checking her pulse and breathing to make for certain she was only temporarily unconscious. He kneeled in the soft grass next to her and positioned her graceful body in his thin, but powerful arms. Erik boldly brushed a stray curl from her face. His heart yearned for this girl, a feeling that was so foreign to Erik that he was aggravated and full of wonder at the same time.

_I am in love. _The actualization of it struck Erik so hard that he nearly succeeded in dropping Christine's body from his arms. _How could I have allowed this to happen, and in only three meetings with her? All of which I have seen her, but she has never so much as glimpsed me, _Erik's fingers strayed to his mask,_ of that I can be grateful for. _

Erik gazed down at her exquisite face, and a sudden impulse of possessiveness overtook him. Erik's fingers dug into the fabric of her dress as he clutched her to him even more firmly.

"Never fear, Christine, my angel," he whispered," you belong to me and no one else now, and not even the powers of hell will be able to harm you."

**So what do you guys think! Eh Eh? Reviews would be nice, yes? I was really debating on whether Erik should fall in love with Christine so fast, and I thought, Eh, why not? But if you guys have a problem with it, let me know. There is little I can do to change it now, but maybe some ideas on how to keep developing Erik's character would be nice. He is such a hard dude to figure out sometimes! However, I shall prevail! Just a side note, the more reviews I get, the faster I update! So vamos por favor! ** **Siento haberlo hecho esperar. **


	5. Chapter 5

Inside the Daae cottage worry was thick in the air. Gustave, Raoul, and his father were huddled in a stern conversation. Gustave's brow was pulled in concern, his body rigid with tension.

_Where is my Christine? Where is my Little Lotte? _He directed his gaze to the window facing the forest. _She has been much too curious where the forest is concerned._

"You both are positive that she was nowhere near the forest?"

Raoul glanced at his father; both of the men's expressions were of concern.

"Sir," Raoul began, "when I last saw Christine she was in the town square near the end of our meeting adjournment," he shook his head, "I assumed she was making her way home from early errands. I was going to escort her the rest of the way due to the incident that occurred earlier this morning, but..."

"What incident!" Gustave interrupted, "I was never informed of any incident!"

Perspiration streamed down his face. Raoul shifted uncomfortably, casting pleading glances toward his father.

"Mr. Daae," Charles de Chagny began, "this morning we received a message composed of threats. These threats were of a nature that was directed towards the duties of the village council. We were commanded to perform our duties with more exactness; the consequence of not doing so resulting in disaster for the whole village,"

Gustave collapsed into a chair, his hands clasped together in front of him. _It's at times such as these that I truly feel my age, _he thought. He glanced once more at the two upstanding men before him. _The poor boy has tried so very hard in searching for Christine. His fondness for her is painstakingly obvious. _

"Sir," Raoul interrupted his thoughts, "I regret to inform you that we will have to collect taxes from you very soon. I wish there was another way, but in the light of our new circumstances there is no other option."

Gustave held up his hand, "There is no need to apologize, my boy, I understand."

Raoul nodded and turned to his father, "We had better leave now. Mother will be expecting us."

Gustave watched them leave, tears flooding his eyes. The cold air that that entered from the outside only deepened his depression. _Christine, where are you?_

x x x

Christine groaned as she turned over once more in her sleep. Terrifying images of Buquet invaded like an unwelcome guest into her dreams. She could almost feel his iron-like grip on her arms, and smell his rancid breath on her face.

"No!" she cried out in fear. Christine daringly opened her eyes and gasped in astonishment. She was in a dazzling room with scarlet drapes and bedcovers to match. The interior of the room was spacious with a writing desk and a large fireplace. Fear struck a chord in her soul.

_Where am I? How on earth did I get here?_ Christine winced as she slowly moved her sore muscles. She glimpsed at her dress, now filthy and wrinkled. She slowly removed herself from the bed and wandered about the room curiously. _Who in the village possesses the money to own such finery? _Her feet took her to the small window that gave a despairing view of the night blackened forest. _I'm certainly not in the village!_ Christine's muscles went rigid, and she tried to wrack her brain for some knowledge as to how she could have come to this place.

_The only thing I remember is the look of pure terror reflected on Buquet's face. It was as if death was coming for him. _Christine fled into the torch lighted corridor; the only sound was her footsteps pounding on stone. Then she heard it; a faint melody found its way into her ears. _Perhaps someone does live here,_ she thought, and she desperately searched for the source of the melody.

Further and further she wandered through corridors and empty rooms, but the sound still remained far away. _Perhaps it really isn't there at all, but only my imagination. _Then a flight of stairs ascending into darkness appeared before her view. _Beautiful things are often found in the most unlikely places, Christine,_ she reminded herself. The flight of stairs led to another and then another until it led to a corridor with a dead end. _It must be one of these rooms. It has to be!_

Christine slowly approached the first door in her vision. Her hand slowly grabbed the knob and turned it. The door silently swung open on its hinges. Christine gasped at the sight before her. The interior of the room was shrouded in blackness, its floor covered in sheets of music. The only source of light in the room emanated from three wavering candles on and old writing desk. The most shocking and terrifying aspect of the room was its heavy silence. No music played now, and the silence was like a heavy weight bearing down on Christine.

_I should not be here. I must leave, now!_ Christine whipped around, preparing to burst into a sprint when a black form blocked her view. Her body went rigid and her eyes dared not view this person all at once. Slowly Christine's eyes moved from the well polished shoes to the finely tailored suit fit to a lean, skeletal frame. She gulped and allowed her gaze to fully come to focus on the face. She gasped at what she beheld. A stark, white mask covered the entirety of the man's face, only leaving the sneering mouth and glowing yellow eyes uncovered. _I have made a grave mistake_, she thought with fear.

"Yes I am rather horrific am I not?" the voice of the man spoke.

Christine gasped, his voice sent chills of an entirely different kind through her being. His voice was deep and purely unearthly. She searched for words to address him, but none came so deep was her shock. The man sighed and impatiently strode past her into the darkened room.

"Wait!" Christine called as she chased after his shrouded form.

The man stopped in mid stride, his back facing her, "If you wish to address me I suggest you do so instead of gaping like a fish out of water."

Christine tentatively took small steps closer to his form, "Who are you?" she stopped, not daring to come any closer.

His shoulders tensed, and he slowly turned to face her. Christine quickly backed away, wanting to put as much distance between this unknown man and her as possible.

"You may call me Erik." He then strode to the bench of the magnificent piano and seated himself upon it. He splayed his long, graceful fingers across the ivory keys of the instrument, but played nothing.

A long silence ensued in which the only thing heard was the heavy breathing of Erik.

"Erik," Christine tried the name on her lips. He let in a sharp intake of breath and hastily stood up from the bench and strode toward the large window.

"Christine, you must never leave me."

Christine snapped her head around to face him, "How do you know my name, and whatever can you mean by that?"

He turned once more toward her and repeated his statement, "You will never leave this place, Christine. This is your home now."

Images of her father sitting alone and in poverty flashed through her mind. Panic took holed of her senses.

"I cannot stay here my father is in need of my help." She turned to leave when an icy grip closed around her wrist. Christine struggled and twisted, but to no avail. "Please, sir I must return home to my father."

Erik pulled harder on her wrist so that she was closer to him, "Your father is dead Christine, and you are now in my care."

_Papa, dead? How can that be true?_ Sorrow of the most terrible kind overtook her and sobs wracked her body uncontrollably.

"Then let me go to his body so that I may see him one last time."

"His body has already been disposed of. You are too late."

Christine cried out in anguish, "What am I to do? Please what do you want of me?" She looked up and was met with such an intense look that it caused her to gasp in astonishment.

"You will marry me, and live here as my wife."

Christine took slow steps away from Erik, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I cannot, for I could never marry a stranger."

Erik let out a cry of rage as he completely seized her, "You will marry me, or you may find everyone you care about in danger."

Christine sagged in defeat, unaware that her body was completely in his arms. All hopes and dreams of a new, happy life fled from her view. Memories of Raoul's handsome smile flashed before her eyes, and tears streamed down her face from what could have been. _Why should I care anymore? Papa is gone and there is nothing left for me._

Christine glanced back up at her captor, "When?" she whispered as she hastily removed herself from him. Erik had hastily seated himself once more at the piano, his fingers playing an intense but beautiful melody.

"You will be in this room at this time tomorrow. There is proper clothing provided for you in your room."

Christine nodded and ran as tears streamed unchecked down her face, unaware of the mournful sigh behind her.


	6. Update Announcement

**Alright, so it's been over two years since I've updated this story. Please refrain from sending hoards of angry mobs my way. I am now determined to start writing this story again now that my writing skills have improved drastically after AP English and a job at the Writing Center. Hopefully everyone will enjoy it. I plan on writing chapter 6 today or tomorrow. More to come soon. Thanks to all who have been patient. You guys are the best.**


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